Ace Combat: The Flight of Freedom
by White Duck
Summary: Under the cloak of the Circum-Pacific War, a power-hungry general stages a military coup on the small tropical island of Bakara, seizing control of the government and destroying all who oppose him. The hope of the nation rests on a handful of mercenary pilots from across Strangereal to form the 'Freedom Flight' Squadron. Fly in our skies, our angels. Fly, and grant us freedom.
1. The Price of Freedom

**This story is based heavily on The Flight of Freedom RP created by Doccy Larsson Seraphim (topic/131604/105867569/1/RP-Flight-of-Freedom). Characters are owned as follows.**

**_Will 'Reaper' Black_ - Doccy Larsson Seraphim**  
**_Bali Redford_ - Doccy Larsson Seraphim**  
**_Mavik Teodor_ - Doccy Larsson Seraphim**  
**_Nemo 'Clownfish' Garland_ - Kitty Len**  
**_Yusa Garland_ - Kitty Len**  
**_Zach Heather - _Kitty Len_  
Steven 'Wolf' Shepherd_ - Sgt Andy McNab**  
**_Grigori 'Bear' Kalashnikov_ - ChaoticCrazy**  
**_Jane 'Hammer' Dawson_ - Dadsky**  
**_Sabina 'Nightlock' Robolski_ - White Duck**  
**_Alejandro 'Jester' Coltner - _White Duck_  
Jack Ryan Henderson - _White Duck_  
Derick 'Paladin' Hunter_ - GuardianH27**  
**_John 'Patriot' Ward_ - IronRunner97**  
**_Hiroki 'Guardian' Tsukino_ - Chickweed001**  
**_Touka 'Angel' Nishikujou_ - Chickweed001**  
**_Arata 'Knight' Imamiya_ - Chickweed001  
_Sidney Hunter - _Chickweed001_  
Hans 'Jager' Engel - _mypersonaljesus  
**

**Fictional weapons and aircraft are owned as follows.**

**_AIGM-36 Swordfish multi-purpose missile - _White Duck  
_JAS-39S Stealth Gripen - _White Duck  
_MiG-29 Fulcrum-FG - _White Duck  
_Su-57 Super Berkut - _White Duck  
_Bakaran Tesla Coil - _Doccy Larsson Seraphim  
_AC-2000 Halakai - _Doccy Larsson Seraphim  
**

**With thanks to all members of the forum for allowing use of their characters, proof reading and aiding in the writing of the story. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

"And now over to our reporter live in Bakara, where as we can see, the civil war that has been raging for the past six months is still in full swing."

"It sure is, John." the Osean Broadcasting Company reporter Brett Thompson stood in the city of Salavari, the capital of Bakara. The city was filled with uniformed soldiers, and tanks rumbled through the dusty streets as the population glanced nervously at the military and scuttled away to their duties. "Behind me, lies the 'People's Palace' where General Mavik Teodor is meeting with his council as we speak to decide how to bring about the end to this war against government troops and the rebel terrorists, who are all hiding out in the city of Aerilon in the east of the country. However, we can see that while the government is winning, General Teodor is clearly neglecting the basic needs of the city as people are dying of easily preventable disease, and working in extremely squalid conditions for a country which once had an economy like that of Ustio. I think it's fair to say that despite the government winning the war, the general population of Bakara will also be the losers of this war unless…"

"Someone turn that shit off." A voice growled. The order was quickly followed and the old TV was silenced.

"General Teodor," The man who had turned the television off addressed with both respect and fear, the most powerful man in Bakara, sat behind a massive oak desk that cost more than what the average Bakaran man earned in a year in a black military uniform with medals dangling from his left pocket. A military-issue hat sat upon his bald head and the piercing black eyes seemed to look straight through anyone he looked at. "You cannot go with that plan! It'll not only cause massive structural damage and civilian deaths but the..."

"I can, Lieutenant." The uniformed General interrupted calmly, silencing the babble with a single raised finger. "And I will." Teodor dismissed the complaining lieutenant with a wave of his hand, before turning to another who was dressed in the uniform of the air force. "Commander, you are free to operate."

"Yes sir!" The air force commander saluted. "Aerilon will burn."

* * *

"Our forces have deployed within the city limits. All units are on high alert. If they're coming, we'll see them."

"That's good, but can they hold? The government troops both outnumber and out-gun us."

"They can, commander. They must."

Aerilon, a peaceful city now home to the last of the rebel troops. Branded as terrorists, they fought long and hard but they were pushed back by the overwhelming force of the government armed forces under command of the tyrant, Mavik Teodor. Inside the command bunker, hastily built in the town centre, the remains of the rebel leaders sat around a table in the centre while numerous radio operators awaited the order to pass on messages to the dug-in defenders around the city. The atmosphere was tense and heavy, with stress and a lack of sleep plaguing all in the room.

The first speaker, an ex-army general, shook his head. "We don't have the power to push the government troops back, not when they have the support of the world's superpowers, Osea and Yuktobania. Our air force is limited to the Seraph Squadron and even their F-1's are hopelessly outmatched against their MiG-21s and MiG-29s."

The commander stretched his arms wide. "Where else do you suggest we go? We're backed into a corner, my friend. Our last chance is to hold them here until we get the support of any powerful country…"

"But who would come?" A third man asked. "Estovakia? Erusea? Maybe even Ustio? I don't think so. We're terrorists in their eyes."

"Maybe…" A fourth speaker, a woman with auburn hair and an ex-air force pilot. "Maybe we should look elsewhere than countries. Maybe...mercenaries?"

The commander was clearly considering all options available but his face brightened at the thought. Then dark returned as sirens began to blare, and calls of incoming government troops came from numerous radios. "Send out the message." He ordered. "Hopefully we can hold until they come."

* * *

"Blockbuster One to all Blockbuster units." The flight lead of the Bakaran B-52H bomber squadron reported in. "We are now over the target area. Release your payload."

"Roger that Blockbuster One, releasing payload now."

The rain began, as 560,000lbs of bombs from each aircraft began to fall from the skies. Pockets of fire erupted like miniature volcanoes below in streams of explosions, killing thousands of panicking innocent civilians in their desperation to get to a shelter and clearing a path for the Bakaran Army tanks, which began to fire upon the defender's positions. Outnumbered and hopelessly out-gunned, the rebels bravely held out but many were destroyed.

Aerilon, a city once a peaceful place of serenity, was burning.

Blockbuster One's pilot, a man of thirty by the name of Jacque, licked his dry lips as he tried to imagine the scene below. The flames would light up the ground and night sky in orange and red, casting shadows that danced among the steadily rising death toll. Those that escaped death by burning or suffocation would then have to face the ferocity of the government armies converging on the outskirts of the city. The order had been clear. None shall survive.

"All bombs away." The bombardier called. The pilot flicked a switch and the bomb bay doors closed, shutting them off from the living hell below. As he watched, one by one the other bombers ceased to drop their bombs and also closed their bay doors.

"That was easier than expected." Jacque muttered. "I would've at least expected some resistance." But then again, if Teodor had been expecting resistance, he would've sent some fighters to cover his precious bombers. But none had been sent, and the rebel air forces remained on the ground. Tonight, the skies belonged to the government.

"Blockbuster Five. Warning, one bandit three o'clock low."

Jacque hurriedly glanced at his radar only to find it clear. There was no enemy aircraft in the sky. "Uh...that's a negative from Blockbuster One."

"Yeah...it just disappeared from radar...weird." Blockbuster Five sounded confused. Jacque let out a sigh of relief. Unprotected, the bombers were sitting ducks,

"Blockbuster Seven, I've got the bandit. Approaching fast!"

_What is going on?_ Though Jacque didn't normally feel fear, something just felt...well...wrong. Planes didn't tend to drop in and out of radar like that. Suddenly, the heavy _brawwww_ of his plane's rearward firing M61 Vulcan cannon filled the cockpit. "Enemy aircraft!" His tail gunner cried.

"Has anyone else got a visual?" Jac demanded answers.

"I see it!" A voice Jac recognised as his squadron's number two. "It's him! It's the Reaper!"

* * *

The matte black CFA-44 Nosferatu dived under the spray of ill-aimed bullets, the pilot snickering as he climbed and loosed a missile that slammed into the side of one of the eight B-52H bombers. The stricken aircraft, trailing fire and debris, fell from the skies. One down, seven to go.

Will Black, or more infamously known as the Reaper, chuckled to himself. Eight bombers? This was going to be a good payday. Putting his aircraft into a wide turn, using his plane's stealth to confuse the bomber defences, he came behind the formation and fired another two missiles into another two bombers which followed the first towards the burning city. Black knew that the burning carcasses of the planes would cause more damage and death upon impact, but it was either that or have them return with more bombs at a later date. Besides, what were a few more dead people when he had his pay?

He rolled away, the g-forces pushing his into his seat as he disappeared into the night while the tail gunners opened up once more but hitting only blackness. _Three down, five to go. Jeez, I expected more of a fight from these guys!_ Coming back at the formation of now escaping bombers, but this time from the four o'clock position, he lined himself up for the next kill. Suddenly out of nowhere, a blue and white aircraft stormed onto the scene, making it's allegiance known by stealing Black's kill. As if in reply to his silent question, an artificial- sounding female voice was heard over his radio. "This is Nemo, callsign Clownfish. Engaging the bombers."

_Oh great. Just what I needed, a cocksure pilot to claim some of the pay._ Black would've spat to show his disdain for the pilot's interruption but such a gesture would be pointless if nobody could see it. And he was in a fighter aircraft's cockpit with a gas mask on. So instead, he fired off two more missiles to claim two more kills. That left just two, which he was determined to get himself. But he wouldn't get the chance. The damned J-20 beat him there and managed to use it's machine gun to shred the wing from the fuselage of one while the other was shot down by missile fire, coming from a SEPECAT Jaguar. _A Jaguar? Seriously? What is this, the 1980's?_ Black almost laughed at the aircraft choice of the third mercenary to appear on the scene.

A joyful voice came over the radio, struggling to remain professional and hide his emotion. "All enemy planes confirmed down! Well done, pilots. Proceed to Aerilon airbase. Command out."

Black quickly spied the lights coming from the airbase on the outskirts of the dazed city, a small airstrip accompanied by four main hangers, numerous smaller ones and one large single storey building which probably held all the accommodation, mess and other rooms. He lined his CFA-44 up with the runway lights, lowering his flaps and landing gear in the process. "Tower this is Reaper. Permission to land on runway one eight zero."

"Reaper, you have permission to land." The tower replied in a calm and clear voice. A female, Black guessed. The type of voice that would attract the interest of younger pilots. But not his. His heart belonged to another. He glanced down at a photograph of a much younger Black, sitting in a park in the grass along with a young woman. They were both cheerful, and held hands in the bright sun. Against the grief of her death during the Circum-Pacific War, his grip tightened on the HOTAS controls and his plane wobbled slightly. But that was enough to snap him back to reality and he steadied the aircraft as he came towards the tarmc.

The CFA-44's tyres screeched as they accelerated from zero to one hundred and fifty miles per hour in less than a second. Reaper brought the nose smoothly down onto the tarmac, perfectly lined up with the white central dashed line. The Nosferatu continued to roll down the runway at speed until Black applied airbrakes and wheelbrakes. "Reaper has landed."

"Roger that Reaper, welcome to Aerilon. Vacate runway and taxi to hangar one."

"Reaper copies. Vacating runway and taxiing to hangar one now."

He followed the orders of the tower and the directions of the ground crew as he slowly made his way to the nearest hanger to the large building. As he did so, the J-20 landed on the runway with a lout roar which was followed closely by the Jaguar. _Great. Looks like I'm working with those idiots._

He listened in to the conversations between the two other pilots, surprised that neither tried flirting with the tower, then switched off the radio along with his engines upon reaching the hanger he was directed to. After allowing the ground crew to tow his aircraft into the hangar. He opened the cockpit and took off his helmet and leather gloves, running a hand through his fuzzy black hair. He wiped the sweat onto the legs of his dark flight suit and climbed out, placing his helmet on the seat and closing the canopy.

The pilot of the J-20 had parked in the next hangar, and was staring at Black's CFA-44 as if he'd never seen a plane before. Black took the opportunity to eye the other pilot up. Small and lean, and looked no older than about twenty. But what caught his attention was the boy's gas mask, which covered the lower half of the boy's face and left his sapphire blue eyes and messy black hair uncovered.

"Don't let your eyes burn, buddy." He chuckled.

The boy turned his attention to Black. On his forearm, he had a phone on which he quickly typed a message and held it out for Black to read. "_Hey! I'm Nemo Garland, callsign Clownfish. And you?"_

"Reaper." Black replied. "Lung damage?" Garland nodded, correctly guessing that Black was referring to the gas mask. He quickly typed another message on the phone.

_"You here for the Freedom Flight?"_

"I'm here for the cash." Black smirked. He didn't care much for the rebel cause. Out the corner of his eye, he saw another pilot in a blood-red flight suit appear from the same hanger Garland had parked in. Unlike Garland, he was taller and slightly muscular, with blue eyes as well and short regulation-cut brown hair. He spotted the two other mercenaries and headed over to join them.

_"Is he with you?"_ Garland asked, or at least, typed.

"No, but I guess he's here to help the rebels too." Black replied. _I sure hope not, that Jaguar's just gonna get us killed._

The pilot had barely enough time to introduce himself as Steven Shepherd, before a door burst open and a short man in a military uniform hurried out to the pilots. "Are you the new mercenaries? I'm Bali Redford, base commander of the Aerilon Rebel Airbase. I am so glad you three could make it!"

Garland stepped forwards and showed a message to Redford. Black couldn't see the message but was able to guess the content when Redford nodded. "Yes, yes. You all exceeded our expectations. The situation is under control, for the time being. Come, you must all be exhausted!" Leaving the pilots no time to oppose, he turned and headed back over to the door he had burst from. The pilots quickly collected their bags from their planes and followed.

"Your rooms are down that way." Redford pointed. "There's no allocations so pick whichever you want. Briefing is at eight sharp." With no more to say, he headed off in a different direction.

Black didn't bother to join the conversation Garland and Shepherd were engaged in, but caught ear of snippets of Shepherd's replies. He guessed he was Emmerian, the guess arriving from his brief but busy time on the Anean continent some years ago. He strode down the narrow hallway and selected the room at the far end of the hallway. It was a basic room, containing just a bed, a bedside table, a desk, a sink and a wardrobe but Black remembered having much worse. Throwing his bags into a corner, he took off his boots and simply lay on top of the bed.

Heavy eyes began to close slowly, and he was asleep before the hour was up.


	2. The Conflicts Begin

The alarm at half past seven each morning signified two things. For the small night shift manning the various AA weapons, radar systems and patrolling the main gate, it signified just a half-hour left before they could crawl their tired bodies back into their beds and sleep through the day. For the others asleep, it was the last thing they wanted to hear as they arose from their slumber and wearily dragged themselves out of bed for another day of relentless work.

But Black was already awake and in the cramped and stuffy briefing room, waiting for the others. He'd been up for an extra half an hour to get an undisturbed shower and a cooked breakfast with lukewarm coffee. Just one of many little habits he had picked up to make the difficult life of a mercenary slightly easier. He wondered what the rebels had in store for him and the other pilots on the first day. No doubt they would be thrown right into the middle of this war with a mission to target something highly important. Whatever it was, he would be expecting payment. He'd already taken the envelope with his name on it sat on the front desk, finding a generous amount of Osean dollars inside for the interception earlier. He hadn't been expecting much, but the amount satisfied him.

A tall man in the blood red flight suit entered next, at about ten to eight with purple rings underneath his blue eyes from the little sleep the pilots had had the last night. Black remembered his name as Shepherd, the Emmerian Jaguar pilot from the other day. Shepherd also noticed the remaining envelopes on the front desk and took his without a word, sitting in the second row of the small briefing room and quickly counting his pay.

_Guess he's not a big fan on talking then._ Black thought, though not really caring. He wasn't here to make friends. He was here for the money.

Garland eventually entered, about five minutes late but had clearly put the effort into his appearance. His black hair was groomed, while his gas mask sat neatly upon a washed and cleanly shaven face. He too collected his payment and his glowing eyes gave away the smile Black couldn't see behind the mask. Whatever the amount was, the boy was obviously very pleased with it.

"Why so amused? Have you never seen a pay check before?" Black asked sarcastically and partially out of interest.

Garland turned to Black and typed a message onto his touchphone with remarkable speed. "_It's for my sister, Yusa."_ He explained. "_For her medical bill."_

"Medical bill? What for?"

"_She has an eye infection._" Garland's expression dulled as he typed. "_It's getting fatal, unless I can get the money for her treatment."_

Black was about to reply but at that moment but before he could get his words out, Redford came running in with loose papers clasped to his chest. Taking a place at the head of the room, he dumped the papers on a table and spoke. "Well...good morning to you all. I see you've collected your payment for last night's work, hopefully it's enough."

The pilots all nodded as he held up a remote and booted up the briefing screen, the old equipment outdated compared to the ones the Osean Air Self Defence Force had used when Black had flown with them. "As you know, we are the Free Bakara Rebel Force, and we've been opposing the tyrant Mavik Teodor who now controls the government here in Bakara. We've been fighting as hard as we can but no matter what we do, we cannot match the power of the government's air force. That's why we called you. Because without their air power, it would give our ground forces an easier time. Now, before your first mission starts, there's a squadron I need you to meet. They've been here since..."

His words were drowned out by the loud roar of not one, but three aircraft landing on the runway outside. Black looked over his shoulder through the window in time to see the last F-1 Kaizen roll past, the sun glinting off the aircraft's dark blue paint showing signs of battle damage. The sound of shouting ground crew was also heard as the fighters were directed and tended to.

"Ah." Redford beamed. "Perfect timing. The Seraph Ground Attack Squadron has been here since the start, along with the Foxhound Air Defence Squadron and their F-5E Tiger II fighters. But sadly, losses have been beyond our worst fears and now those three F-1 attacker aircraft from Seraph are all that remain." His smile faded into a serious but saddened face. "Without further ado, I will brief you three on the mission we have planned." He dimmed the lights and pulled down a map of Bakara, pointing with a metal stick to a red dot.

"This oil pipeline belongs to General Teodor's forces." He explained. Black noticed that it ran almost the entire length of the country, and came from the sea, probably supplied by Yuktobania. "It is responsible for supplying thirty percent of the fuel supplies to the government vehicles. We have planned for the Seraph Squadron to strike it here." He gestured with the stick. "It is up to you three to ensure that none of Seraph gets shot down."

The door opened, and all heads in the room turned to face a rather tall and lean pilot, his warm brown eyes tired looking and his scruffy brown hair looked messy, probably from too much time inside a flying helmet. He saw the brief on the board and shook his head slowly. "No rest for the weary then, eh?" He sighed.

_He must be a pilot of Seraph_. Black thought as he eyed him up. _The leader, by the looks of things._

"Ah, gentlemen." Redford gestured to the pilot in the doorway. "This is Hiroki Tsukino. He's the flight lead of the Seraph Ground Attack Squadron."

"What's left of it." The Osean flight lead muttered. His presence in the doorway was quickly joined by two other pilots similarly dressed and with similar determined looks on their tired faces. They slumped into seats on the back row with sighs. Black, now looking back at Redford, felt their eyes scanning the pilots in the room.

"Sir," Black turned to see Hiroki rise and walk to the front of the room, taking the metal pole from Redford who stepped away to allow the man to the map. "Our squadron will be able to handle the pipeline. What we really need is air cover." He pointed to a long straight section of the pipeline, situated in what looked like desert. "We'll be striking this section of the pipeline, where their AA defences are lacking due to the harsher environment."

"If their AA cover is low, they'll surely know about it and direct more fighter patrols." Black analysed, rubbing his goatee beard. Which meant more planes to shoot down and subsequently, more pay. _Good._

Hiroki nodded. "Correct. Literally every time we've tried to hit them their fighters drive us off. Even with Foxhound Squadron with us, we lost one or two planes to their fighter patrols before having to retreat."

"We don't expect you to be able to defeat all the fighters." Redford hurriedly reassured. "Just enough to allow Seraph to drop a couple of bombs in that area and get out."

_Just watch me_. Black smirked.

"Alright, I think that's everything." Redford checked his watch. "You three will now be known as Freedom Flight. Major Black, you'll be Freedom One. Captain Shepherd, Freedom Two. Finally, Second Lieutenant Garland, you'll be known as Freedom Three. The mission commences in thirty minutes. You should take off in quarter of an hour in order to be in the combat airspace in time. That is all."

While the other two made the effort to greet the Seraph, Black instead left straight away to head out into the morning heat towards his hangar, where his black CFA-44 was kept separate from the other aircraft. He shooed away the technicians hovering about like annoying flies, buzzing him with their questions. This was his plane, and only he would tend to it. It had been that way ever since he'd stolen it from Estovakia, and it would remain that way.

The air was filled with a heavy thumping, and suddenly a Mi-35M Hind helicopter burst from over the horizon and flared for landing as it reached the helicopter landing pad while Black watched from the cockpit of his aircraft with interest. The scarred and battered machine landed gingerly upon its wheels, the ground crew running over despite the five blades still slowing and kicking up dust to extract the wounded soldiers from last night's fighting.

The single pilot kicked open the cockpit door and clambered out, a stereotypical mountain man lookalike. He looked as fatigued as his helicopter did, and Black wondered how he could stand to wear the winter flight jacket in the heat of the tropical Bakaran sun. He barely seemed to notice Black as he headed into the briefing room, after demanding his helicopter to be rearmed.

Calling over a nearby ground crewman, Black gestured to the Hind. "Who's the pilot of that helicopter?" He demanded.

"That would be Captain Kalashnikov, sir." The man nervously replied under Black's cold stare. "A damn good helicopter pilot too, from Minuteman Rotary Wing Squadron…"

"I only asked for his name, not his life-story." Black growled, dismissing the technician who scurried away. He began readying his CFA-44 for combat, topping up the fuel and arming it with purely air to air munitions. He wanted to make his presence known to the Bakaran Air Force by killing as many of their pilots as he could in one sortie. _Let's see how they like this one._

He checked his watch underneath his black flight suit. Quarter to nine. Time to go. He clipped on his parachute and strapped himself into his fighter, refusing the help of the ground crew who continued to hang around despite making himself clear that nobody but he touches this plane. When the engines ticked over into a whine, he rolled clear of the hanger and taxied to the runway, while in his rear-view mirrors in his cockpit, he saw the pilots of the new Freedom Flight and Seraph Squadron hurriedly dash out to their fighters.

"Freedom One, requesting permission to take off runway three six zero." He contacted the tower once the ground crew had armed his weapons.

"Freedom One, you are cleared to take off runway three six zero. Advise you loiter at altitude angels ten one mile north east of the runway for the rest of the flight." The woman with the beautiful voice answered.

"Freedom One copies." Black guided his fighter onto the runway and threw the throttle forwards as far as it would allow. He was pushed back into his seat as the Nosferatu roared down the runway and leapt off the tarmac, climbing rapidly to ten thousand feet.

His loitering didn't last long, as the rest of the strike force quickly assembled. Garland was there first his J-20 faster than Shepherd's Jaguar and Seraph's F-1 Kaizen attackers. When the last pilot of Seraph, Seraph Three, had reported their presence in the air, Black took command.

"Freedom One to Freedom Flight. Form up on my wings, arrowhead formation." He growled the order, the strange-looking flight quickly complying and forming the respective formation as they trailed the line-abreast formation the Seraph Squadron adopted, flying slightly behind and at a lower altitude than their fighter escorts.

"_This is Freedom Two. Just a thought, is there any way we could take control of the pipeline without destroying it? In case it could be useful in the future?" _Black was beginning to find the female-sounding robotic voice annoying. Could he not just accept the mission for what it was? There was no need to try and change things now, just as they were entering the combat airspace.

"Seraph One to Freedom Two." Hiroki's voice was still recognisable through the radio. "If we could, we would. But we don't have the resources or the manpower to try."

"_Roger that...just a thought."_

"Save those thoughts 'till later." Black ordered abruptly. "I have radar contact, five bandits at one o'clock angels seven heading two seven zero. Freedom Two and Three remain with Seraph. I've got this one." He claimed the fighters as his prey and increased thrust to pull away from the formation.

"Freedom Three roger."

"_Freedom Two, you sure you don't need help?"_

_Oh why can't you be like Three and just do as I say?_ Black groaned inwardly then he said so Garland could hear. "I'll be fine! I've had worse odds. Stay with Seraph, we cannot afford for them to be shot down." With that he increased speed and climbed up towards the incoming fighters. Arming his sidewinder missiles, he locked on to the rear aircraft and fired, the Fulcrum bursting into flames as the deadly projectile slammed into the twin exhausts, sending debris everywhere. Another missile blew the wing off the second and he shredded a third with his cannons before pulling away, the remaining pair giving chase like hounds after the fox.

"Freedom Two, four bandits at two o'clock angels five heading one two zero." Black heard Hiroki as he strained against the g-forces from his attempt at a tight turn. Tight turns weren't the CFA-44's strong point, and the Fulcrums were nearly in a position to fire.

"_Freedom Two roger, moving to engage enemy._"

Black levelled out and quickly pulled a kulbit loop, drastically losing airspeed and the unsuspecting Bakaran fighters shot past. Two bursts of gunfire later and the Fulcrum fighters were tumbling out of the skies in flames. Two white parachutes appeared in the sky.

_Two more targets_. A dark grin appeared on his face behind the oxygen mask and he dived towards them, slicing through the parachute strings and watching the pilots free-fall from the sky with a smirk on his face.

"_This is Freedom Two…did anyone else see what I just saw?! Freedom One, what are you doing?_" The female-robotic voice couldn't portray the emotion Black guessed the young pilot must be feeling having seen him murder two Bakarans in cold blood.

"I'm doing my job." Black growled, caring little for what the others thought. "Like you should be doing too!"

"_You just murdered two unarmed soldiers!_"

"Learn to accept it, kid. This is war." Black chuckled to himself as he spoke the words the famous pilot Solo Wing Pixy had once used. He turned and sped to re-join Seraph Squadron, the dark blue F-1 fighters weaving their way in and out of the AA fire that was spat towards them. Any minute now and they would be in range of the pipeline.

"Seraph One to Freedom Flight, I'm reading incoming fighters from all directions." The concern in the flight lead's voice was obvious. "Looks like they really want to keep their oil pipeline. Keep them off our back, Freedom Flight."

"Freedom One copies all." Black had identified the bandits on radar too and was already pointing his plane towards the formation coming in from their front, the four MiG-21 Fishbed fighters appearing on his HUD. "Freedom Flight, cleared to engage and destroy at will. Down them all!"

"_Freedom Two, roger that." _Again, the robotic voice shunned any emotion.

"Freedom Three roger."

The powerful engines of the CFA-44 allowed Black to quickly close the gap between him and his four targets. A beeping noise and red square on his signified a missile lock and Black released the missile, watching it eagerly lance through the air towards its target which exploded and flipped, the wings and tail ripping away from the tube-like fuselage seconds later. The Fishbed fighters had no time to lock on themselves as Black roared directly through their formation at near-supersonic speeds. He silently thanked his internal ECM system for making life difficult for the incoming Bakarans.

He pulled a sharp loop, gritting his teeth against the g-forces as he came about onto the six o'clock position of the formation, which had made no effort to pursue him and instead dived towards the vulnerable F-1 attackers of Seraph. The internal 23mm cannon fitted to the outdated fighters sprayed orange projectiles towards the aircraft and they pulled away, not looking to the results of their attack.

"We're taking fire from both the air and the ground!" A woman yelled, a voice unrecognisable to Black but he guessed it was one of Seraph's pilots when she continued. "Freedom Flight, are you protecting us or what?!"

Black didn't bother to answer or look to assess the damages to the rebel attack squadron as he gave chase to the three remaining Fishbed fighters, setting his sights on the tailing aircraft as he rapidly closed the gap between him and the slower plane. The pilot noticed the charging Nosferatu and chose to bank away but Black was having none of it, pursuing the smaller fighter while mercilessly hammering 30mm rounds into it until the fuel ignited and destroyed the Fishbed.

"Splash two." Black announced, pulling away from the debris cloud. The other two Bakaran fighters hadn't fancied their chances with another attack at Seraph and had banked away to flee the combat airspace. In any other mission, Black would've given chase and turned them both into kill markers on his aircraft. But today, he had a squadron to protect. "Freedom One, the other two are bugging out. Freedom Flight, state status." He ordered as he flew back to cover Seraph. The three fighters had taken a beating from the 23mm gunfire, holes dotted the wings of aircraft One and Three while Two trailed thin grey smoke from her left exhaust.

"_This is Freedom Two, currently engaged with enemy fighters."_

"This is Freedom Three. Also engaged with enemy fighters."

Black looked down at his radar, checking the locations of his flight. Both the other pilots had their Fishbed flights effectively distracted and had shot down two each. But what caught his attention was the amount of AA weapons along the flight path. "Seraph Squadron, be advised. I'm reading a lot of Bakaran anti-air defences on radar."

"Damn...where did they all come from?" Hiroki cursed. "We're not gonna be able to get through them all."

"This is Seraph Two, I don't have enough fuel for a detour." Black heard the number two pilot report as he pulled into the squadron's five o'clock high position.

"Well somehow we're gonna have to take out the AA defences." Black analysed the situation, looking for answers. "But none of us carry long-range air-to-ground missiles. We cannot engage the ground forces effectively."

"This is Minuteman One," Black heard an unfamiliar Yuktobanian-accented voice over his radio. With a quick glance at his radar once more, he spied another blip moving towards them, reading the same IFF signature as Seraph. _That must mean it's friendly. _He concluded but still made himself ready to break. He remembered the time he took out an entire Estovakian squadron in his CFA-44 because they thought he was a friendly aircraft due to the misleading IFF. "Perhaps I may be of assistance here?"

"Minuteman One." Hiroki sounded both surprised and relieved to hear his voice. "What's the Bear doing this far from his territory?"

The older man chuckled. "Command wanted me here for SAR in case any of the mercenaries got themselves shot down. Loiter here for a few minutes and I'll try to nail as much of the AA weapons as I can."

"Roger that." Seraph Squadron began a lazy orbit of the local area, with Black following suit in his five o'clock position while continuously checking radar to watch the locations of his squadron and the incoming Mi-35 Hind which passed underneath the loitering aircraft. Black watched as two minutes later, explosions appeared in the distance, one by one destroying AA guns and SAM defences.

"Freedom Three, splash three, there's one at my six." Shepherd sounded cool under the pressure the Fishbed was putting on him..

"_This is Freedom Two. Splash four, all bandits down. Freedom Three, I'm moving to engage."_

"Roger that."

"I've got them wound up." The sound of rotors, explosions and pings of incoming AA fire hitting the Hind could also be heard as well as the pilot's accented and gruff voice. "Seraph, you should be able to punch through their defence line."

"Roger that." Hiroki acknowledged as the three F-1 attackers banked harder and dived in lower, hitting the afterburners briefly to rapidly increase their speed as they descended. Though much faster than their cruising speed, Black was easily able to keep up in his much more powerful CFA-44. "Seraph Squadron, five miles to the target."

"_Freedom Three, your six is clear." _The annoying female voice representing Garland announced to the Emmerian mercenary

"Roger that, thanks for the assist."

"Four miles, we're passing over the AA defences now." No sooner had Hiroki announced their position when the AA gun and artillery fire began to turn their way. Orange streaks whistled through the sky like fireworks, narrowly missing the four aircraft as they soared overhead at high speed. Black glanced out of his cockpit to watch the battered Hind turn and send another six rockets hurtling into a group of AA guns challenging the Seraph Squadron.

"Two miles, prepare for weapons release." Seraph's flight lead ordered his flight, who all acknowledged as the pipeline came into view. It cut across the landscape, an ugly grey scar that stretched for miles across the golden desert. "One mile...now!" All three F-1 attacker aircraft released their payload. Six dark green Mk.83 bombs dropped from the underwing hardpoints of the fighters and fell freely towards the pipeline below as the Seraph broke away in unison into a climbing bank away. Black watched the resulting explosions kick up clouds of grey dust and flickers of orange flame that engulfed that section of the pipeline. A large column of thick black smoke began to rise.

"The pipeline is destroyed." Black confirmed as he turned away from the now destroyed target and followed Seraph Squadron, glancing down at his radar. "Radar is clear of enemy aircraft. Freedom Flight, return to base."

He levelled the CFA-44 out onto a vector back to Aerilon, with the J-20 and SEPECAT Jaguar forming up quickly on his wings and the sound of their engines nearby added to the sound of the wind in the CFA-44's cockpit. A quick glance over the other planes told Black that both had avoided being hit by gunfire or worse. An easy mission, and hopefully good pay as a result.

"_So that's it then? I expected more of a fight."_

Black looked round into the cockpit of the J-20, staring at the blue-helmeted pilot. "Stay frosty." He ordered in a warning tone. He'd seen enough battles where fighters ambushing a squadron returning from a successful mission had shot down many of the unsuspecting victors. Being too relaxed in the air can be deadly, you can never be sure what lurked in the skies.

Radio chatter fell silent quickly. It was a successful mission, but Black knew that it would take more than one pipeline to stop Mavik's army. This was only the beginning, the first step on the long and difficult road to defeating the tyrant.

Soon, the warm lights of Aerilon airbase came into view over the hills that enclosed the small city. Smoke rose from the still burning city, the overworked military firemen desperately fighting to smother the flames under a blanket of foam and water. Black's eyes flicked from watching the golden evening sky and his radar to observe the three damaged F-1 Kaizen attackers land one by one, smoothly turning onto the approach and touch down onto the runway.

It was then Black's turn to bank onto the approach, and line his nosewheel up with the dashed centre line of the runway. He ran through the checks, making sure his landing gear and flaps were down before radioing the tower to confirm his clearance to land.

"Roger that Freedom One, you're on the money." was the reply from the girl in the tower.

As Black slowed and came over the runway, he flared and raised his nose, flying just inches above the smooth grey tarmac before he felt his rear wheels finally made contact with a slight bump. He brought his nosewheel down and rapidly decreased his speed with a mix of wheel brakes and airbrakes, the deceleration pushing the nose down onto the wheel. Under direction from the tower and the ground crew, he taxied to his hanger and shut off his engines, listening to his flight mates land behind him.

Something caught his eye as he climbed out the cockpit. Two planes sat outside the hangar next to his, planes that hadn't been there before he took off earlier for the mission. Ignoring the taxiing J-20 and Jaguar, his curiosity urged him closer to the new aircraft, their pilots nowhere to be seen.

The closest one was a grey YF-23 Black Widow stealth fighter, but Black's attention was focussed on the fighter next to it. A plane he recognised from a distant and brief memory. His eyes focused on the tail of the Estovakian-built JAS-39S Stealth Gripen, taking in the sight of the expertly painted owl silhouetted against a silver moon.

"Well I'll be damned." A small smile appeared on his face as he studied the fighter before him. "One survived."


End file.
